Home Thru The West

another bitter night shrouds Sonoran desert skies,

where deep rounded coyote hills

frost the silhouetted peaks,

reflecting silver naked grey in the moonlight,

where living sounds swell like pregnant monsoon clouds

this first,

perhaps

my last place of rest,

hanging on to each unconditional breath,

till these dry frozen river beds

return my kidnapped soul to some empyrean

home to be

Bisbee

11/8/73